


Pressing Bruises

by Buhneebaby



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Anal Sex, Hypnotism, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rimming, Roleplay, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:26:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27806050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buhneebaby/pseuds/Buhneebaby
Summary: Sometimes all you need is a little nudge in the right direction.
Relationships: Feitan/Illumi Zoldyck, Feitan/Phinks (Hunter X Hunter), Feitan/Phinx, Illumi Zoldyck/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a beta, please excuse any mistakes. ♥  
> This is my first attempt at writing in the present tense, and also my first time writing Illumi~ hopefully it's not too weird!

Feitan is not easily impressed or intimidated. So he merely perks an eyebrow at the heavy aura entering through the main door of the hideout with Chrollo. It feels like all the air gets sucked into a vacuum, hard to breathe, and his heart can’t help but flutter the smallest bit with excitement; this guy’s strong. All eyes are drawn to the tall willowy figure in the tacky green crop top and matching capri pants.

Ah, it’s the first-born Zoldyck son. Illumi Zoldyck. Feitan knows who he is by the needles and the hair and the way Kalluto Zoldyck is shifting uncomfortably where he sits nearby. Illumi is much-loved by (most of) his siblings, but heavy fear is threaded in with that love. ‘ _I adore him, he’s everything I want to be someday, but… he’s so strong and scary that I don’t really like being around him much_ ,’ Kalluto had said once of his oldest brother. Feitan supposes he can see it. But it’ll take more than a scary aura to get his respect.

Kalluto and Illumi reunite with a brief, stiff hug and a pat on the head to the younger Zoldyck and the day continues on without any further excitement. Feitan sharpens his swords and then files his fingernails and has a cup of coffee. Boring, nondescript, everyday stuff.

He’s sitting at the table having his second cup and looking at a crossword puzzle someone left open when he hears a chair slide over the floor. He looks up and Illumi is sitting down across from him. They study each other.

“Hello,” Illumi says, face expressionless.

Feitan nods at him in greeting, something about the vast blackness of the other’s eyes fascinating to him.

“Have you met my brother, Killua? You look a lot like him.”

Feitan raises his eyebrow and shrugs. “Few times. Why you think that?”

Illumi leans a little closer and reaches out as if he means to touch Feitan, but he does it slow enough that Feitan could easily stop him if he wanted to. Feitan doesn’t flinch when the long slender fingers pick up a piece of his hair and curl it around them. “Your body is very similar. Your hair even feels the same. It’s intriguing.”

“Why?”

Illumi drops the piece of hair but continues staring deeply. “I’m not sure. I guess I just miss him.”

Feitan has a meager understanding of the situation from snippets of information he’s been given by Kalluto. He knows Killua ran away from home. Ran away from Illumi. He knows Illumi is a manipulative and obsessive brother and that he trained Killua to be an assassin who would inherit the family business. All the needles and hypnotism and questionable tactics Illumi had employed hadn’t been enough to keep Killua tied down and obedient, though.

How unfortunate. To have failed at something that shouldn't have been all that difficult.

Feitan can’t help but think that he would have done a much greater job. It’s his specialty, after all. To break a person’s spirit, to smash apart a will and force his own ideas in through the cracks. And if he also had the help of magic needles to give an extra shove of persuasion? It’d be game over. But he knows he doesn’t need such tricks. He’s plenty convincing on his own and while his torture methods are much more barbaric and less flashy, they certainly get the job done. It’s not as if anyone’s ever lived long enough to complain.

It’s been a few minutes now and Illumi is still staring at him. Feitan takes a sip of his coffee. “Pretty eyes,” he mutters around the brim of his cup, because they really are. They’re so _big_ and black and there is no depth or color or life. It’s like looking into a doll’s eyes.

“Oh? Well thank you. I like your eyes, too.”

Feitan blushes faintly and hides his face behind his cup.

“What’s your name?” Illumi asks.

“Feitan.”

“Feitan,” Illumi says slowly as though tasting the word. “It’s nice to meet you. My name is Illumi. You already know my baby brother, Kalluto.”

“Yeah, I know.”

They end up finishing the crossword puzzle together and having a pretty good time. Feitan decides he likes him. He’s strange, but not in a bad way. And pretty touchy, too, which is definitely new to Feitan; people don’t touch him very often. Or at all, really. He’s not the most affectionate type, he supposes, and it may be that he’s just touch-starved, but he finds himself enjoying the way Illumi occasionally brushes his hand or twirls his hair around a delicate finger. And the way those eyes seem to swallow him up. He likes him.

“Would you care to join me for dinner, Feitan? I know a place.”

Feitan shrugs. “Okay.”

The place is nice, way nicer than anything Feitan would have ever gone for. He’s only ever had basic foods and he’s not picky. He likes rice and noodles and has a particular taste for red wine (mostly because its deep color reminds him of blood and he likes blood) but this place Illumi has taken him to has way too many items he’s not familiar with. He doesn’t know what to order and just stares dumbly at the menu for ages.

“Do you need help deciding?” Illumi asks gently, pulling the menu down from where it’s blocking Feitan’s face from him.

“Yes.” Feitan’s eyebrows are pinched together in a frown.

“Do you have any dietary restrictions?”

“What?”

Illumi, patiently, “Any allergies? Are you a vegetarian or a vegan? Any preferences?”

Feitan shakes his head, not enjoying all the big words. “No. Just want food.”

The waiter comes and Illumi orders several dishes and two bottles of wine. He seems to be giving Feitan options, which is appreciated since Feitan is feeling rather out of his element in this upscale environment with this fancy-looking person sitting across from him. He’s definitely more comfortable eating a greasy hamburger in an alleyway, but this is a nice change.

Two glasses of wine in and he’s no longer concerned with looking out of place. His cheeks are a little bit flushed and the food is _amazing_ when it comes. The presentation~ the flavor~ he’s so impressed. And Illumi is still staring at him, those eyes bigger than the dinner plates. Two black holes Feitan feels himself being sucked into.

“Why you join Troupe?” Feitan asks after they’ve dined in comfortable silence for a bit.

Illumi primly wipes his mouth with a cloth napkin before answering. “I joined because Hisoka asked me to. He’s contracted me to kill him.”

At the mention of the traitorous clown, Feitan’s nen flares momentarily. “Tch! Stupid clown. You get in line behind me.”

“Oh? Has Hisoka done something to anger you?”

Feitan takes another big sip of his drink, feeling warm. “Liar and traitor. Betray Boss.”

Illumi hums and nods. “Yes, that does sound like him. I couldn’t ever really see him on a team… so I’m surprised he thought joining your gang was a good idea.” Illumi finally blinks and looks to the empty wine bottles. “Are you finished? Should I order us another bottle of wine?”

Perking up a little, momentarily forgetting about his anger, Feitan nods. “Yes. Good wine.”

“It is, isn’t it? I can see you aren’t used to drinking, are you? That’s okay, I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

That seems like a strange thing to say, but Feitan doesn’t really care. Maybe he should have put a little more thought into this. Getting drunk with someone who is essentially a stranger? Alone? He knows he can handle himself just fine, even with a disadvantage like being intoxicated, but still… Illumi isn’t some random schlub. But is he really a stranger, though? Feitan knew _of_ him before today, at least. That has to count for something, he reasons as the third bottle of wine arrives.

Illumi has his chin propped on his knuckles and is gazing intently at Feitan. The restaurant is slowing down as closing time draws nearer. Their table has been cleared off and Illumi’s discreetly paid the bill, an elegant hand tugging Feitan back down to the table before the other man could do his signature dine-and-dash.

“There’s no need for that when you’re with me,” Illumi says, and it doesn’t sound like bragging to Feitan.

“I’m a thief,” Feitan says in response, not really understanding the concept of _paying_ for things, especially when you don’t have to. He’s been taught to take what he wants in life and figure out the specifics later on, but it usually means you go to the bathroom and sneak out through the window before the restaurant staff notices.

“And I’m a Zoldyck. We do things differently, and that’s okay. Tonight was my treat.” Illumi’s face does a weird little thing around his mouth, a small twitch upward. A smile? Feitan laughs at how unnatural it looks.

Back at the hideout, Feitan is showing Illumi his interrogation room. The rack, the cross, the chair with the nails hammered into it. He unravels a long strip of cloth where he's got a variety of metal instruments and knives and picks, all shiny and clean, belying their terrible uses.

"You have a marvelous assortment. Impeccable taste," Illumi compliments, taking a scalpel into his hand and stroking it with appreciation. "I would love the opportunity to watch you at work sometime. Do you think I could?"

Feitan just shrugs. "Don't see why not." He's sobered up considerably at this point and enjoying the praise Illumi is giving him. Nobody ever compliments his stuff, and he works so hard. Maybe it would be nice to have company when he takes his next appointment, he's thinking to himself, watching the way Illumi’s long fingers run along the tools. Maybe they could even work together a little, that would be different and fun.

\---

Having Illumi around is a great distraction for Feitan because usually his mind is occupied with one singular thought: Phinks. He's been in love with Phinks for as long as he can remember. Since they were little kids. Since before he even knew what loving someone meant.

And it's because he knows what loving someone means that he will never tell him.

He knows it's hopeless but that doesn't stop the longing he feels. The good thing is, he's mastered the art of hiding his emotions from others. He's certain nobody knows about this secret. He and Phinks are good friends and they get along well, they joke around and have fun and it feels nice, nice and normal and comfortable after so many years together. Nothing weird has ever happened. No funny moments where they almost-kissed or almost-touched. No close calls ever. Nothing to give Feitan any hope that his secret yearnings would ever be returned.

He's so confident in the act he's put on for years that he very nearly faints when lllumi says to him one evening, very private and close to his ear, "Do you have a crush on Phinks?"

"What?" He tries to sound appalled but his voice is weak.

Illumi stares at him with his head tilted to the side, his hair so long that some of it is spilling onto Feitan's shoulder and down into his lap.

"Sorry. Is it a sensitive subject?"

Feitan can't stop the blush spreading over his cheeks. Embarrassed and a little bit angry, he pulls his scarf up to hide his face. "No."

"Oh. Then do you?"

"No! Tch! Why you ask that?"

Illumi is walking his fingers along Feitan’s thigh, humming. He doesn't answer for a moment, then says, "I have a good intuition about things like that. Does he know?"

Feitan, who is by now used to Illumi’s touchy mannerisms and generally unbothered by them, finds himself squirming a little under the present touch. "No. Of course not." He considers removing Illumi’s wandering hand but decides not to.

"He doesn't really seem like the type, does he? That's a shame. You two would be cute together."

Embarrassed, Feitan feels his temper rising. "Shut up. Don't say that."

There's that weird twitch of Illumi’s mouth again that might have passed for a smile had it been on anyone else, but his eyes kill the imitation entirely. He tucks a few strands of hair behind Feitan's ear and leans close to him again.

"Have I told you about my abilities? Do you know what my needles can do?" Something about his voice makes Feitan shiver.

"No," he mumbles weakly, moistening his lips. He turns his face toward Illumi to look at him fully.

Illumi has reached inside his pocket and pulled out a metal case. It snaps open to reveal an assortment of needles of all different sizes, different lengths, different thicknesses. Some of them have big round tips and some are entirely straight. He lets Feitan play with them while he explains:

“I can use these to alter my appearance. I’m sure you already know, but I am an assassin, so this is very beneficial to my work.” He picks up one of the needles with the round tip and spins it around in his fingers. Feitan watches, entranced. “These are the ones that do that.”

“You show me?” Feitan asks, a little bit excited.

“Yes, but not right now. It’s pretty uncomfortable for me.” Illumi returns the needle to its case and picks up another, very thin and very straight. He holds it in his palm and gives Feitan a long, thoughtful look, as if considering his next words carefully.

It’s very interesting and Feitan is having a good time, but on the other side of the room there’s a sudden loud, boisterous laugh that grabs his attention instantly. It’s Phinks laughing with Nobunaga about something. Feitan frowns a little and determinedly meets Illumi’s eyes.

“This one can help with your problem.”

“What problem?”

Illumi tilts his head in the direction Feitan refuses to look.

“That’s no problem.”

“Oh?” Illumi holds the needle up to his eye and squints at it. “That’s too bad. Because this needle can be embedded into a person’s brain. Painlessly. They won’t even know it’s there. And all it does is give a gentle little… nudge…” he pokes Feitan in the forehead to accentuate the word, “in the direction you’d like for them to go.”

“What direction?” asks Feitan, swatting the other’s hand away from his face.

“It can make Phinks love you.”

“Don’t play with me.”

Illumi is actually smiling now and it looks far more convincing than any of the others Feitan has seen on his face. It looks nice. “I would not play about something like that.” He puts the needle away and returns the case to his pocket. “Are you interested? I’d be more than happy to show you a demonstration.”

Is he interested? Feitan’s eyes dart back and forth from Illumi’s call-of-the-void gaze and to where Phinks and a few other Troupe members are gathering around the table for pizza. Is he interested? Is he?

“Fei!” Phinks’ voice carries across the room and Feitan jumps, startled. “Hey, you guys want some pizza?”

“In a minute!” Feitan shouts back. He feels a little bit sweaty, a little nervous. A little excited. Is he interested?

“How’s it work?” he whispers, leaning a little bit closer to Illumi, who is still smiling.

And Illumi’s touching him again, running the pad of his thumb along the dark shadows under Feitan’s eye. It’s a soft touch and Feitan feels himself leaning into it slightly, and Illumi is staring again but it doesn’t really bother him anymore.

Never breaking eye contact, Illumi’s voice has dropped to nearly a whisper too when he says, “It works by imbuing the needle with a specific order. I tried it on Killua. I wanted to protect him even when I couldn’t physically be with him, so the order was to run away if he could not defeat an opponent.”

Feitan asks the obvious question, “What happen if he don’t run?”

“He isn’t left much choice in the matter. Attempting to fight the order causes temporary paralysis. Think of the way a deer freezes when it sees the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. There is only a small adjustment period while the unwillful brain is triggered into obeying the will of the needle.”

“Does-does it hurt?”

“No. It doesn’t hurt at all. Phinks would not even be aware that the thought was not his own.” Illumi winks at him. “You’re very cute, though, so I doubt he would ever fight against the order very hard.”

Blushing furiously now, Feitan pulls away and stands up. He brushes off his tunic and readjusts his scarf and glares at Illumi, but his brain is turning over all the information he’s been given. Is he interested?

“Give it some thought. Maybe we can work out a deal.”

“A deal?”

Illumi is standing now, as well. “Well, yes. Everything comes at a price, doesn’t it? But we’ll talk more about it later. For now, let’s have some pizza.”

\---


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty rough. Emotional, sad, lots of bad feelings and weird sex.
> 
> There's implied incest (but it's really just Feitan with a slightly altered appearance, don't be too alarmed) but it could definitely still be triggering if you're sensitive to that sort of thing.

_How can I possibly_  
_have memories_  
_of something I know_  
_has never happened?_  
_Something I have never_  
_held?_  
_I have been cherishing_  
_the thought_  
_of you,_  
_I have been waltzing_  
_with the shadow_  
_you never got to_  
_leave._  
-Tyler Knott Gregson

Feitan would never admit it to anyone, but he’s lonely. He realizes he’s always been lonely and while he wouldn’t consider himself self-loathing, he can admit that it’s his own fault. He’s forever kept up a barrier between himself and the world: a protective shield where no one gets through and violators are shot on sight. No Trespassing. He doesn’t maintain his relationships and he doesn’t nurture his friendships, and he knows he’s just a neglectful and selfish person when it all really comes down to it.

That’s why he gives thought to Illumi’s offer. It’s tantalizing. The only part that gives him pause is the possibility of hurting Phinks. He would never. Not on purpose, and this is definitely an _on purpose_ type of deal. But Illumi had said that it doesn’t hurt. But how can jamming a needle into someone’s _brain_ not hurt? Maybe because it’s so narrow? Maybe because Illumi knows the perfect way to insert it?

Feitan is alone in his room with an open book raised to his face, but he isn’t reading it. He’s daydreaming. About an eager and subservient Phinks kneeling on the floor between his legs. Looking up at him with adoring doe-eyes. That look, that look he’s craved for so long. He can see it so clearly in his head, this is such a well-loved and repeatedly-played fantasy that it may as well be a memory at this point. If only it was a memory.

He slides down to recline more and lays the open book over his face to cover his eyes. His legs part and he allows himself to indulge again in his favorite fantasy. The one where Phinks slips quietly into his room and says he can’t stop thinking about him and that he has to do something about it. The one where Phinks is touching him with those big, powerful hands and spreading open his legs - just like this, he sighs - and taking him in his mouth. Feitan strokes himself with one hand while his other hand slips further down to run along the rim of his ass. He thinks about Phinks’ cock, thinks about how big it must be. How good it would feel pressing inside him.

He’s never directly asked but he’s seen enough of Phinks in day-to-day interactions to believe that he’d be a gentleman in bed. He doesn’t have any steamy details of the other’s romantic escapades, and truthfully he’s not sure how he’d feel if he did have those details. Maybe it would make him jealous. But he thinks he’d be romantic and attentive. Putting his own needs on the back burner to give his lover all the pleasure first and foremost. Maybe. At least, that’s how Feitan pictures him.

He’d probably be very gentle and it would feel even better because Feitan knows how strong Phinks is. He’s currently the strongest member in the troupe, as a matter of fact, when you’re judging by raw power. And knowing that sends a little thrill down Feitan’s spine. It’s not that Feitan can’t take a little bit of abuse, but he’s used to that. He was raised on pain and violence and just thinking about being touched in a way that doesn’t hurt… well, he has trouble even imagining it because other than Illumi’s grazing touches, he’s never really experienced it.

But he’s certain it would feel that way with Phinks, or better. He’s certain Phinks would take his time, all night even. Kissing him, licking him, prepping him, stretching him open on those big calloused fingers. Feitan’s breathing hitches at the thought. His dick twitches in his hand while one fingertip slips inside his ass.

He’s always imagined Phinks being very talkative during sex. Maybe he’s thought about what sex with Phinks would be like too much, but he has all these ideas floating around his head. Phinks is just so talkative in every other situation, even ones that really require silence and concentration. Even during important missions, Phinks always has something to say. Usually something funny or stupid. Would he be funny while he was sucking Feitan’s dick? Would he playfully pinch his thigh? Would he lean up and blow a surprise raspberry on Feitan’s belly? Would he tease? Would he joke around?

Maybe not. Maybe he would be merciful because Feitan has waited _so long_. He’s wanted. He’s yearned for. Maybe Phinks would be serious. ‘ _Do you like that? Is this what you need_?’ he imagines Phinks asking, voice rough in his ear. He’s slipped a second finger in at this point and is feeling very hot, very full. ‘ _Does that feel good? Is it what you need_?’

“Yes,” he whispers aloud, arching his back, hips wiggling.

The Phinks in his head is entering him now, their lips pressed sensuously together. He loves how big and strong and solid Phinks is, how heavily muscled, how warm. He craves to be covered by that warmth, enveloped in those powerful arms. God, it’s too good. He’s never wanted anything more in his life than he wants this, this dream, this perfect picture he has in his head of being loved and devoured and drilled into the bed.

His mouth is hanging open. The book’s fallen to the floor and a dribble of drool is leaking onto the bedsheets as he gasps and works his hand faster over himself. He’s close, he can feel the tremors of his impending orgasm in his straining thighs.

He’s almost there, almost there, so close, when abruptly Illumi’s voice shoots through his head: ‘ _It can make Phinks love you._ ’ Feitan flinches as if he’s been slapped across the face, but doesn’t stop jerking his cock.

‘ _It can make Phinks love you_.’

 _‘It can make Phinks love you_.’

Feitan’s moaning now, unreserved, his heels digging into the bed as his body arches. Illumi’s voice is everywhere. He’s being carried on those lilting words, floating, floating. Falling.

‘ _Are you interested_?’’

‘ _It can make Phinks love you_.’

‘ _Give it some thought_.’

‘ _Give it some thought_.’

‘ _Give it some thought_.’

He bites down on his bottom lip when he comes. The rest of the night is spent thinking about that offer. Could he really have it? Could it really be his?

\---

It’s very late at night several weeks later when Feitan finds himself knocking on Illumi’s door. It opens seemingly by itself and he walks inside. Illumi is perched on the windowsill with a fistful of needles in his hand and he’s running his tongue along the ends. It looks oddly provocative and makes Feitan pause momentarily before approaching further.

Illumi regards him silently for a long time, then reaches out for him with one hand. Inviting. Feitan moves forward into his grasp and is pulled up on the windowsill so they’re facing each other.

“Are you ready?” Illumi asks, and Feitan’s eyes are drawn to the shiny needles in his hand. The way the moonlight glimmers off their metallic finish. The way Illumi’s little tongue peeks out from between his lips to slide over the rounded tips. 

Feitan moistens his own lips and swallows. “Yeah. What deal you make?”

Illumi puts his needles away and gives Feitan his full attention. “Do you like me?” His eyes are huge, imploring.

Feitan blushes and tries to look away, but Illumi grasps his chin and brings him right back.

“I-I guess. Why?”

“Because it will make our deal heavily favor you if you do.”

“What?” Feitan has some idea of where this is going, but he needs more clarification.

Illumi’s stroking his thumb over Feitan’s bottom lip, pulling it down gently to show his teeth. “Hmm. In exchange for putting a needle in your friend, I’ll have one night with you. And you’ll do everything I tell you to. So you get to spend one night with someone you admit to already liking, and in return, you get to spend the rest of your life enjoying the Phinks you’ve only ever fantasized about. I’d say it’s a good deal for you. Don’t you think so?”

Feitan’s breathing has picked up a little, his mouth lax, and Illumi slides his thumb in between his lips. Over his tongue, pressing down. He moves deeper into Feitan’s mouth and fish hooks his cheek. Feitan only stares at him with wide, startled eyes, unsure what’s even happening right now. Why can’t he pull away? Why can’t he say something? Illumi’s eyes look _weird_ , too, weirder than they usually do. They’re not so black and matte anymore; they’re a deep dark swirling purple. Swirling? Swirling, fucking hypnotic. Is he- is he doing something to him? Panic sets in, in a faraway corner of Feitan’s mind, but it’s too far away to care too much about.

“Don’t look so alarmed. It’s not something you won’t enjoy. I’ll take very good care of you.” Illumi is smiling that wide, unnatural, positively terrifying smile now. He’s standing and pulling Feitan along with him toward the bed. He’s got his hand spread on Feitan’s chest and is shoving him backward-

-And Feitan’s whole body feels like it’s made out of lead. Heavy, slow. As he falls into the blankets, he feels like he’s sinking into quicksand. It’s hard to breathe and he doesn’t have control over himself anymore. He tries to lift his arms, tries to kick his legs, tries to twitch his fucking finger, but nothing happens. He lays there, stretched out, on display, terrified.

Illumi’s watching him intensely, still smiling. “It’s okay, Kil. Aniki’s going to take such good care of you.” And Illumi is crawling up over the top of him like a predator stalking its prey. And realization is dawning on Feitan like a knee in his gut and bile is rising in his throat because he wants nothing to do with this. Illumi’s hair hangs down like a curtain around him, tickling over his face and moving in his gasping breaths.

A needle presses into the base of Feitan’s skull and a pained moan escapes his mouth.

“Shh… there we go. That’ll fix your silly hair. You should have known black would never suit you.” Illumi runs his fingers through Feitan’s hair and Feitan sees that it’s now stark white.

“Why’d you run away from me, Kil? I love you so much.” Illumi picks Feitan up and holds him in a tight embrace, and Feitan still has no control over his body whatsoever. He is arranged like a doll, limp and maneuverable, into a sitting position on Illumi’s lap. Illumi presses soft kisses to his brow and the bridge of his nose, down along his pale cheeks and the curve of his jaw. “I’m so glad I finally found you. I knew I’d get you back someday.” Illumi’s voice is so melodic and lulling, Feitan feels it washing over him and bringing with it a sense of utter calm. He sighs, eyes closing when Illumi’s lips meet his.

His body is responding to these tender touches, enjoying the press of Illumi’s mouth, the feeling of those long elegant fingers dancing along his back and his arms and down his sides. And Illumi’s tongue is swiping over his bottom lip, then entering into his mouth. He tastes revoltingly like black licorice and Feitan hates the taste so much that he’s jolted temporarily out of his daze, but when his eyes shoot open he’s met with Illumi’s eyes again and the way they dance and swirl and spiral loosens out whatever anxiety he had felt.

“That’s right,” Illumi whispers, petting Feitan’s head in what should have been a loving brotherly gesture, but it’s definitely not registering that way. “I always knew you would be such a good boy for me. I trained you to be perfect, didn’t I? My perfect little brother. Let’s get you out of these clothes, huh? They’re so dark and ugly. I don’t know what you were thinking with this style, honestly.” And he’s tugging Feitan’s tunic over his head and then gently laying him back on the bed.

Feitan watches his clothing get removed, feeling like a spectator at an event he’s not at all a part of. He feels like he’s floating somewhere above.

“Look how excited you are,” breathes Illumi, kissing Feitan’s knee. It’s true - Feitan is excruciatingly hard. As embarrassing as it is, real-life sexual partners are pretty hard for him to come by, so it’s not something he gets very often. And his body doesn’t know the difference between good-touch and bad-touch, and at this point, he’s not too sure his mind knows the difference anymore either. Everything is pretty hazy right now and his brain is desperately trying to remember why he should want to stop this.

Illumi suddenly grasps his face in one hand and squishes his cheeks and it hurts a little. “Are you still thinking? Stop thinking. Give in to me.” Spiraling, spiraling, god his eyes are beautiful. Feitan feels dizzy and warm and undeniably good, and Illumi is kissing him again, harder, more insistent now.

“Let me take care of everything,” Illumi is saying, low and sweet in his ear while he sucks Feitan’s earlobe into his mouth. “Let me show you how much I love you. I’ll make you feel so good, just let me… just let me…”

And Feitan does. All resistance has flown along with the butterflies of apprehension that had been fluttering in his belly. This is _great_. Why had he ever thought it wasn’t? Illumi is touching and kissing him with reverence, as if he’s worshipping something very precious. No part of him remains unloved and all the attention has his body singing with want, thrumming with desire.

Illumi is down between his parted legs now, hungrily devouring his asshole, tongue working at a rigorous pace. Feitan has gained some of his bodily control back but it’s pretty useless, as all he can bring himself to do is thrash in pleasure. Cry out from how _amazing_ Illumi is making him feel. Desperately beg for more.

“You want more?” Illumi asks after pulling back slightly, running his tongue over the sensitive head of Feitan’s dick. “Tell me you want more. Tell your aniki.”

“More, aniki, please,” Feitan whispers, finding himself a little more involved in Illumi’s fantasy than he thought. He tries to raise his hips toward Illumi’s mouth but is held firmly down by deceptively strong hands.

“Hmm, such a pushy little brother. There’s no hurry, is there?” Illumi wraps his mouth around Feitan’s dick just as one long finger presses inside his saliva-slicked asshole.

Feitan’s body jolts as if he’s been shocked and Illumi roughly pulls him closer, deeper into his mouth and begins fucking his finger in and out. Any internal monologue Feitan once had has completely disappeared and all he knows is this desperate desire to be _taken_. To be _had_. He needs it so bad, so bad, this just isn’t enough!

As though sensing his distress, Illumi adds a second finger and stretches him out. It doesn’t take much effort, he was already very wet and excited from the tongue-fucking.

Illumi pulls away, a calm smile painting his face at Feitan’s cry. Their eyes meet and it’s so intense that Feitan’s cock throbs simply from the expression on Illumi’s face.

“Fuck me, onii-chan,” whispers Feitan, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth.

Illumi lets out a harsh breath and his hands tighten on where he’s holding Feitan’s knees apart. “What-” he looks shocked. “What did you… call me?”

Suddenly the cool and calm picture Illumi has always painted is running in streaks of paint down off the canvas, his eyes are slightly wild now and his breathing is hard.

“Onii-chan… please, please fuck me now.” And Feitan knows, he knows he’s done it this time.

Illumi yanks Feitan’s body closer and there’s nothing gentle about his touch anymore, not the way he drives his cock inside him with a deeply-satisfied groan. Illumi’s hair is _everywhere_ , it’s stuck to their skin, it’s in Feitan’s mouth, it’s covering his eyes. But it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine because it feels _so fucking good_. To finally feel so full, so stuffed, and Illumi is fucking him _so hard_. There is none of the composure he’s always associated with Illumi present anymore. It’s all frantic, brutal thrusting. It’s hands gripping his white _white_ hair, yanking his head to the side and baring his throat for Illumi’s mouth to bite and kiss and bite and god god god, it shouldn’t feel this good, but it _does_.

“You’ll. Fucking. Take. It.” Illumi punctuates each word with a thrust of his hips and Feitan’s crying out, his hands grasping at Illumi’s arms for some kind of anchor because he feels like his soul’s about to separate from his body.

Then Illumi is whispering in his ear, so close, so close, “You like this, Kil, don’t you? You like it? It feels good, right? Do you love me, too? Tell me. Tell me.” He sounds like he’s chanting, like he’s praying, and Feitan feels tears pricking at his eyes at how pathetic and sad and broken the other man sounds. He gets a heavy sense of vertigo suddenly and is hit with a wave of nausea, but only clings harder to Illumi’s arms and nods his head.

“Yes, yes. Love you, onii-chan. I love you.”

“You love me,” sobs Illumi with one more brutal shove of his hips, and he’s coming. He’s gasping and shaking and clinging to Feitan’s body as his orgasm tears through him.

Feitan can sense that he’s free of whatever spell Illumi placed on him. He knows he maybe could have stopped this sooner, but judging by the way Illumi is breathing deeply and raggedly into his hair and petting him, maybe it’s best he didn’t. There was obviously a lot going on with the other man and Feitan doesn’t feel in any position to judge. So he just strokes his hands through Illumi’s long, soft hair and murmurs gentle words of comfort to him.

Maybe ten minutes pass before Illumi gently pulls away, wiping his eyes even though Feitan never saw any tears. He looks at Feitan with his characteristic blank expression again and it feels normal.

“You haven’t come.”

And it’s true, but his erection has flagged since the strangely emotional ending of their love-making. He feels bad for Illumi, as sad and as sick as the other man may be, there is a sadness and a loneliness and a yearning in him that Feitan is more than familiar with, because it’s there in himself, too.

“It’s okay,” Feitan says quietly.

“No.” Illumi sighs and reaches up behind Feitan’s head. There’s a gentle pressure and he’s removed the needle, turning Feitan’s hair black again. “You deserve it. You… you were perfect.” Illumi moves to stand by the window and the moonlight gives him a beautiful, ethereal look as he digs through his needle box. Feitan listens to him inhale sharply, painfully, as he sticks several needles into the back of his head.

The transformation is mesmerizing. The way Illumi’s body shifts and contorts and cracks into an entirely different form. In mere moments, Phinks is standing right where Illumi just was. Feitan’s heart clenches and he scoots back up against the headboard.

“No… no, no.” It’s too weird. It’s too much. He can’t-

Phinks is grinning, but it’s wrong. It’s all wrong. He’s approaching the bed and Feitan feels himself pressing further away, but that’s as far as he can get. He’s against the wall and Phinks is crawling toward him on his hands and knees. His grin is carnal, dangerous.

“No, please, don’t- don’t.” But a hand is grasping his ankle, tugging him down across the bed. And it’s _Phinks’_ hand, big and calloused and kissed golden by the sun. It’s Phinks. It is, it is, oh my god, it looks just like him. And he’s pulled underneath that big warm body, looking up into those eyes-

But the eyes, they’re wrong. They’re wrong. Those aren’t Phinks’ eyes. Phinks’ eyes are gentle and full of light and laughter, but _these_ … these are empty and hollow. Not Phinks’ eyes. But, but, but if he doesn’t pay attention to the eyes… if he only pays attention to the touch, to the feel of those hard muscles flexing against his tiny wandering hands. It’s a pretty good illusion. He feels his body responding to what he’s only had before in dreams.

But when Phinks’ mouth presses hungrily against his, he’s assaulted with that disgusting licorice taste again. It’s not right, it’s not right. But Phinks is persistent, and his mouth is so perfect and Feitan is touching his face, marveling at the feel of it. Marveling at how real it is. To have such an ability, Illumi is _dangerous_. Truly and terrifyingly dangerous. Because with the exception of those damning eyes, this person with him now, this body… it doesn’t feel like Illumi at all.

“How long have you wanted me, Fei?” Phinks asks gruffly in his ear and Feitan shivers and shakes his head.

Phinks’ hand is lovingly caressing his face and for the second time that night, Feitan feels like crying. To feel that calloused thumb touching him so tenderly, goddamnit. He sucks in a harsh breath and shakes his head again. It’s too real. He can feel himself wanting to give in to this fantasy, but he’s afraid to.

Phinks sighs and tips Feitan’s chin up and their eyes are locking again, and Feitan feels that subtle tug on his consciousness. He recognizes it now, recognizes it from earlier when he’d sat with Illumi on the windowsill. The swirling in Phinks’ eyes, the calmness washing over him. Feitan wants to fight it, but the look on Phinks’ face is so sweet and nice, and Phinks is smiling, and Feitan suddenly finds himself smiling, too. Phinks presses a kiss to his lips and Feitan feels himself melting against the other man.

“That’s right,” Phinks coos. “Now tell me, Fei… I want to know how long you’ve wanted me to fuck you into the bed.”

Feitan gasps, his hips tilting up by themselves and he moans at the friction. “So long,” he says. “Forever.”

“Forever, huh? Well that’s a long time to wait, isn’t it? Guess I’ll have to give it to you.”

And just like that, Phinks’ hand is wrapped around his erection. And there’s that stupid feeling again, that weak, pathetic sting that feels like he might cry. He’s wanted this for so long, for so long. It feels so real. God, he just wants it to be real. He sniffles, blinking rapidly, not wanting to call any attention to his emotions, but it’s too late. Phinks pulls away and stares into his face. Feitan blushes.

“Why are you crying, Fei? What’s the matter?” Phinks rubs his thumb over the head of Feitan’s cock while his other hand is cradling his face. “Don’t cry, baby,” he whispers, wiping away the tears that are finally falling. “Don’t cry. I’ve got you.”

Phinks tugs him up into his lap and holds him close, hand still moving between them. It’s so tender. It’s everything Feitan had hoped it would be. All those years of dreaming, of fantasizing. It’s perfect. The tears won’t stop falling from his eyes, but he’s moaning from the pleasure now, too, pressing his hot face into Phinks’ neck, breathing in his scent. Licking the strong chords of muscle, feeling the heartbeat pulsing calmly under his tongue. How is Phinks so calm? So unbothered? When Feitan feels like he’s fucking dying.

Phinks’ hands are on his hips, guiding him a little closer. He feels himself sinking down onto Phinks’ cock and the stretch is almost painful, but he’s still pretty open from the fucking he took earlier so it’s not so bad. Fully seated now, he pulls back a little to look at his friend’s face. He cups his face in both hands and sucks in a breath, trying to memorize this moment, to store it to memory. His heart aches. He feels miserable. This isn’t what he had hoped it would be at all.

But his body’s fine with it, his body is bouncing happily on Phinks’ fat cock and he can’t deny how good it feels. And they’re kissing again, sloppy and noisy, sucking at each other’s lips and tongues and their bodies are slapping lewdly together. And the illusion is so complete. Down to the blond hairs gripped in his fists. Down to the grunts puffing in his ear. Down to those big beefy fingers digging into his hips, controlling him entirely now, fucking him down hard. And Phinks is stroking his cock faster now but their rhythm is slowly falling apart and growing frantic and desperate and Feitan’s muscles are tensing, and he’s gripping Phinks’ dick so hard and tight and and and-

The cry that comes out of his mouth when he finally comes, it’s so wrecked and heartbreaking. An accumulation of many years of wanting something and never being able to have it. Phinks pumps into him a few more times before groaning and releasing into the small body that’s still twitching rhythmically around him.

Feitan falls against his chest, sobs wracking his body. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. But he can’t seem to stop it. It’s much more than Illumi’s emotional outburst earlier and he thinks for a moment what a sad pair they make, just how much they mirror each other in their lonely lives. He nuzzles his face against Phinks’ neck, drying his face, then presses one last kiss to lips he knows he’ll never truly taste.

“Take them out,” he mutters, and Illumi obeys him instantly, morphing back into his regular appearance. Feitan has his eyes closed and he feels the face changing beneath his fingers, feels the hair fall down over him like a curtain.

And then they’re staring at each other again.

Feitan feels bad. Probably worse than he did before. What a terrible idea this had been.

Illumi is nodding his head, almost as if he can read Feitan’s mind. “It hurts more than I anticipated. I had thought… that it would bring some sort of comfort, but…”

“No.” Feitan’s voice is hoarse and raw.

“But you’re far too cute for me to ever consider you a mistake, hmm? Let’s just use it as a learning experience.” He gently slides himself out of Feitan’s body but keeps the other man on his lap. “I suppose we should talk about the specifics of your end of the deal, shouldn’t we?” He’s stroking Feitan’s face softly.

“Deal is off.” Feitan is wincing as if he’s in pain.

“What do you mean?”

“Deal is _off_. Don’t want it. No needle in Phinks.”

Illumi doesn’t push for an explanation, merely nods.

Feitan knows it would never feel right. If they went through with it. It would be a lie, and he knows he can’t live like that. The way things are now, he thinks it’s just fine. It’s been fine for years and years and it will continue to be fine. He won’t manipulate his friend into feeling something he’s not already inclined to feel. What kind of sick person would do something like that to someone they claimed to care about?

Illumi would. He feels closer to Illumi now but also repulsed by him. Maybe they’re too similar. Illumi is just a living demonstration of how bad things can get, how scary and awful obsession can make a person. He doesn’t want to become that. He doesn’t want that at all.

“No needle in Phinks,” he says again, searching Illumi’s eyes. He needs a verbal agreement.

And Illumi provides him with it. “No needle in Phinks. I promise.”

“Good.” Feitan’s grabbing his clothes and dressing slowly, his body sore. His head’s still a little fuzzy. What a bizarre night he’s had.

“Feitan,” Illumi calls to him just as his hand is closing around the doorknob to leave. He turns his face in Illumi’s direction.

“Thanks,” Illumi says quietly.

Feitan just nods and closes the door behind him. He leans against it for a moment with his eyes closed. He may not have been prone to self-loathing, but he certainly doesn’t feel good about himself right now.


	3. Chapter Three

Life goes on and Illumi and Feitan don’t spend much time together anymore. Illumi’s pretty preoccupied with his contract to kill Hisoka and Feitan can’t really blame him; Hisoka’s a pretty killable guy.

Feitan is still as lonely as he’s ever been, but he starts trying to be a little more sociable. He goes out with the others sometimes. He doesn’t really participate in the events, but he does enjoy it when his friends get together and sing karaoke. He listens to Machi’s drunk ramblings about how stupid and terrible men are. He rubs Nobunaga’s back when he’s puking in the back alley from way too much alcohol and not nearly enough self-control.

He’s sitting outside watching Franklin and Nobunaga spar in the grass when he feels a familiar presence beside him. He looks over and feels his stomach tighten. Phinks is leaning casually against the wall, smoking a cigarette. He cooly offers one to Feitan, who has declined every single cigarette Phinks has ever offered him in his life, but this time he takes it.

Phinks just grins and gives him a light and Feitan feels a small twinge of heat at how oddly intimate the moment is: his lips wrapped around the cigarette, eyes locked with Phinks’ eyes while he pulls in a deep breath of smoke. He hates smoking. Hates the smell, hates the taste. He’s not sure why he took it this time. Phinks pockets his lighter and they turn their attention back to the sparring.

The silence is comfortable. They’ve always shared this.

But then Phinks has to go and ruin it. “So what happened with you and the needle guy? I thought you were best friends or whatever.”

“Not friends,” Feitan mutters, blushing a little.

“Well whatever happened, I think you’re better off without him. He’s weird. And I dunno, he gives me these creepy vibes.”

“Yeah. Creepy and weird.” There’s no lie there. “Too obsessed with brother.”

“His brother? Kalluto?”

“No. White hair one. One we almost killed. Remember?” The cocky little brats. Feitan remembers them all too well and frankly, he doesn’t see the appeal. Definitely not enough to pine your life away over.

Phinks thinks for a minute, then lets out a loud laugh. “Oh yeah! Haha yeah, I remember now! You were gonna break the little one’s fingers, yeah. Man, that whole thing was so stupid. They were pretty strong, though. For kids, I mean.”

Phinks takes a long drag off his cigarette and then rubs the back of his neck as if he’s feeling shy or awkward about something.

“What is it?” Feitan asks, picking up on the body language immediately.

“It’s just… something he said. The other day. I wanted to ask you about it. Did you- I mean, of course it’s none of my business, but did you and him… were you…?”

“What?” Feitan feels himself growing impatient.

“Did you sleep with him?”

Feitan chokes on his inhale, smoke leaking out his nose. “Why?” he demands, facing his friend with eyes blazing. But his face is flushed a deep red.

Phinks pushes himself off the wall and takes a few steps back, as if fearing Feitan’s wrath. He holds his hands up in front of him like he’s being held at gunpoint. “Hey, hey! Look, I don’t care. I was just curious, that’s all. He was telling me how great you are. I don’t know. I-I wondered how he would know… how he would know how great you are. And then I realized you’d been spending a lot of time with him and then you suddenly stopped and I… I guess I wanted to make sure you’re okay. See if you needed me to kick his ass, or something. He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Phinks is blushing too now and not really looking at Feitan anymore.

“I…” Feitan doesn’t really know what to say. He awkwardly coughs into his hand. “He didn’t hurt me.”

“Ha, I knew it. My best friend, the heartbreaker!” Phinks is laughing his characteristic laugh again and he punches Feitan’s arm. But then he grows serious again. “Really, though, why that guy? I mean, what made you, uh… I mean, is it just because he’s pretty?”

Feitan’s heart is beating fast and he feels very strange with this conversation. It’s very unlike Phinks to talk to him like this, about things like this. But he doesn’t want to put a stop to it. It’s exciting a part of him that has been hidden, repressed, stamped into the bottom of his heart and all but forgotten.

“We are… similar,” he finally says, after thinking of the right words. He’s not sure how to describe their similarities to Phinks in a way that won’t humiliatingly give away all his pathetic Phinks-centric secrets.

But of course, and like usual, Phinks is relentless. “Similar _how_? He’s a total creep. You’re not a creep. I’m not seeing the similarities.”

Feitan just shrugs and extinguishes his cigarette under the toe of his boot. “He’s sad.”

“And you’re sad?”

“Why so many questions?” Feitan feels put on the spot, like he’s the one strapped to the wooden chair with the sack over his head. He doesn’t like it. Doesn’t feel like answering all these stupid questions that aren’t leading him anywhere except to more pain and heartache.

“I just don’t like knowing you’re sad. And I don’t like…” Phinks pauses for a long moment as if carefully considering his next words, and the _fuck it_ he decides on is apparent, because he says, “I don’t like that you fucked that guy.”

Feitan’s head turns sharply to look at his friend. He hops down off the wall and stands directly in front of him. He reaches up and yanks Phinks’ head down close to his face so that he can look in his eyes, and Phinks is making annoyed sounds and complaining, but he doesn’t care.

“Did he touch you?” Feitan demands, running his fingers along the back of Phinks’ head, feeling for the needle he fears is there.

“What? No, of course not. I wouldn’t let that freak anywhere near me! What the fuck are you doing? Hey, what are you doing? What’s wrong?” Phinks grabs his hands and holds them tight in front of him, and he’s still bent down so they’re still face-to-face.

They are very close. Feitan’s eyes widen a little and he tries to yank himself back, but Phinks is just too strong.

“I was afraid. That he’d needle you,” Feitan finally says and looks down.

“ _Needle_ me? What the hell does that even mean? Hey, will you fucking look at me?”

And Feitan raises his eyes again to meet the concerned eyes of his friend. He’s not sure they’ve ever been this close to each other before. He’s not sure Phinks has ever touched him like this before, for this long. He can’t control how bad he’s blushing and he hates that it’s happening, but he loves feeling Phinks’ strong hands wrapped around his wrists like they are.

“Feitan. Fei. What the hell did he do to you? What are you talking about?”

Feitan tries again to pull away and again is unsuccessful. He huffs angrily. “His ability is needles! He… he, um…” He’s getting aggravated at his own poor vocabulary. Unsure how to properly describe just what Illumi does with his needles. “Needle poke you,” he finally manages, “Make you do stuff. Stuff he want.”

“Oh… oh god. That’s fucking _gross_. Oh man, eww! Did he… is that what he did to you? Did he, Fei? ‘Cause I swear to god, I’ll kill him!”

Feitan rolls his eyes. “No. Shut up.”

“Man, you really liked the creep, huh?”

“Shut up.”

They stare at each other. Then Feitan asks, “Why you care so much? Why it bother you?”

Phinks finally releases Feitan’s hands and he’s rubbing the back of his neck again. “I don’t know why, but it really does.”

“Hmm.” Feitan finally turns away from his friend and his ears are burning.

“I guess-” Phinks starts, then abruptly stops talking again. There’s a long pause before he continues, “I guess I didn’t know you were into that kind of thing.”

Feitan’s getting annoyed by the conversation now and ready for it to end. “ _What_ kind of thing?”

“Fucking guys, I guess.”

When he looks back at him, Phinks has both hands covering his face in embarrassment and Feitan is confused. “What? Why? I like… like lots of things.” It’s true, he’s never been particularly picky when it came to the lovers he took. It was usually more of a matter of convenience than anything.

“I just never realized, and I’m so stupid. Like, you know I’m really stupid, right?”

Feitan nods agreeably, “So stupid.”

“You know, when the needle guy was talking to me about you… look, I don’t know what you did to him, but he was pretty messed up. Like he looked like he’d been crying. And he was telling me how you’re the kindest, most considerate person he’s ever known. And that the person who gets you, who gets you to fall in love with them, that they’d be the luckiest person in the world. And, but… I don’t know. He gave me this weird look and his eyes are so fucking weird.” Phinks shudders dramatically. “But I dunno, it was a weird look and he said that sometimes people just need a little nudge in the right direction. And I felt like maybe, like maybe he was trying to tell me something… without telling me something. Does that make sense?”

“No. You make no sense. And talk too much.” But Feitan’s heart is hammering wildly in his chest despite what he says. His eyes are darting around now for an escape route.

As if sensing Feitan’s about to flee, Phinks backs him up against the wall and places a hand on his sternum, pressing him there gently. “I would never want to mess up our friendship,” he says quietly.

Feitan’s mouth is hanging open, trying to form words. He feels more scared than he has in years. Maybe ever. He can’t even entertain the thought that this is real, that this is really Phinks and it’s really happening. “Phinks,” he tries to say, voice wavering. “Phinks, did he put a needle in you?”

“I told you he didn’t. Why are you so obsessed about that?”

“Because he said- he said he would. How can we know?”

“You really think I wouldn’t know if I had a needle in my fucking head? Jesus, Fei. Why are you so freaked out? You’re freaking me out!”

Feitan’s staring into his eyes and wondering if he could tell. If he could tell if it was fake. That’s what he was so afraid of in the first place, the lie. The knowledge that the whole thing was a lie. But Phinks is staring right back at him, a little angry and a lot confused, and they _look_ normal, his eyes. There’s nothing strange there.

“I don’t know… if I can tell the difference,” whispers Feitan, and he sounds so scared that Phinks cups his little face in both his hands and leans very close to him.

“Feitan. He didn’t put a needle in me. This is me! Why are you… why are you so sure that I can’t actually be this way? Was he really what you wanted so fucking bad?”

“It’s not that!” shouts Feitan, loud enough to make Phinks back off a little. But he quickly places his hands over Phinks’ and holds him in place. “It’s not that,” he says again, quieter.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s… it’s because…” Feitan sighs. _Fuck it_. “I like you,” he whispers, holding back on the big L because it’s way too much right now and he knows it is. It’s already too much, but there seems to be no stopping this train wreck from happening, so why the fuck not press the accelerator a little bit?

“I mean,” Phinks is looking confused again, “I mean, I like you, too. That’s sort of the talk we’re having right now, isn’t it?” and he’s laughing suddenly and leaning in again, and Feitan is holding his breath because it feels like maybe, like maybe he’s going to-?

Phinks tips Feitan’s chin up and presses a chaste little kiss to his lips. Instantly pulls back to gauge his reaction. Then kisses him again.

Feitan’s legs literally give out beneath him and he’d have crumbled to the ground if Phinks hadn’t caught him and lifted him back up to sit on the wall. Phinks is leaning between Feitan’s spread legs and the kisses he’s giving him are unlike any Feitan’s ever received. They’re so full of _love_ , there’s so much feeling there that it chokes him up a little bit. He doesn’t even care that they’re in a public place and his friends are around somewhere. He’s lost. Completely fucking lost in Phinks, and it’s really Phinks. The real Phinks. Not an imitation, not a daydream, really really him. And he’s perfect. He’s everything. Oh my god, he’s everything.

They separate with a sweet little smack of the lips and Feitan hugs him. Hugs him for a really long time, just pressing his head to Phinks’ chest and breathing, and enjoying, and so many emotions are coursing through him that he feels entirely overwhelmed and dizzy and unable to think about anything except _this is it, this is what I’ve always wanted_.

There’s just this nagging thought… somewhere in the back of his mind. That Illumi did something. He had to have done something. It’s been _years_ and Feitan is expected to believe that now, all of a sudden, this happens? Just like that? No. He doesn’t really believe that. As wonderful as this is, as perfect as this feels, he can’t stop thinking about it. The possibility. Would Illumi really do that even after promising he wouldn’t? Feitan certainly wouldn’t put it past him. And even as he listens to Phinks’ very real heartbeat - and it sounds the way he always imagined it would, fast and loud and excited and so unlike Illumi’s was that awful night - he knows he has to find out the truth or else this will drive him crazy.

When he finally lets Phinks go, everything settles right back into normalcy. Like nothing changed at all. They have dinner. They laugh and play around and joke and it feels more normal than it’s ever felt before, and Feitan wonders if anything really changed at all. They’d always been this way, after all. Now it just seems that they are a little, tiny bit _more_.

The next time he has a moment alone, he calls Illumi.

And Illumi answers on the first ring.

“Feitan.” He sounds a little bit breathless. “What do you need?”

Cutting right to the chase, Feitan asks in as calm a voice as he can, “Did you needle Phinks?”

There’s a pause. Then, “No. We agreed not to, don’t you remember?”

“Yeah, but… did you do something?”

“No. Nothing at all. I promised you I wouldn’t. Why are you asking me that? Did something happen?”

Feitan brings a hand to his mouth to touch his lips, remembering the kisses Phinks had pressed gently there earlier. “Yeah.”

They’re both silent for a moment before Illumi says, “Well, are you planning on telling me what happened?”

“No. Why you talked to him? He said you talked to him.”

“I wanted to see for myself the kind of person it takes to steal a heart like yours. And I understand now. That’s all I needed. You can call it closure. I wanted… more from you than I initially thought, but I can never hope to compete with the place Phinks has in your heart, so I… I want you to be happy. Because seeing you happy, as similar as you are to myself, it’s as close to finding happiness as I’ll ever be.”

Feitan is frowning deeply. He doesn’t really know what to say. Illumi always seems to make him feel so terrible.

“I know he loves you, Feitan.”

“What? How?”

Illumi sighs quietly into the phone and there’s a little bit of static. “I have a good intuition about things like that.”

And the call ends, and Feitan believes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! ♥ I've had this idea in my head for a while and really just needed to get it out. My heart does ache for Illumi even though he's sooo not a nice guy. :-(


End file.
